


build a home

by strifescloud



Series: after [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5425097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strifescloud/pseuds/strifescloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After everything, Cloud and Genesis build themselves a home. Drabble-ish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	build a home

**Author's Note:**

> right well im more than a bit tipsy tonight and have been listening to the hamilton soundtrack for like, 3 days straight, which is where this comes from. blame the tracks "that would be enough" "it's quiet uptown" and "who lives who dies who tells your story"  
> thanks for reading folks <3 and goodnight

How many years had it been? The memory of Meteor, once a bright spark of fear in the hearts of the Planet’s people, had faded into grey and dust. The Planet was free from Shinra’s exploitations, the Lifestream calm and pure once more. Their world didn’t need old heroes anymore.

They got a little house in the countryside.

Cloud built it with his own hands, brick by brick, a testament to his commitment written in solid stone. Genesis had watched him work, witty comments on his lips but vulnerability plain in his eyes. Things were different now than how they were _before_. Both men were quieter, haunted, though Genesis’s voice still rang proudly in the valley where they had built their home. At least, Cloud mused, he had never truly lost that fiery spirit.

Cloud painted the exterior in muted tones, simple and unassuming. He had long since lost his taste for flashy exhibitionism or materialism. Cloud only needed three things to make a home – his bike, his sword, and the man he loved so much that he thought his heart might give out under the force of it.

The interior he left to Genesis, simplicity an easy sacrifice to make him happy. Degradation and Deepground had taken so much from him, visible in the hollowness of his cheeks and gauntness of frame that Cloud was working to repair. He still didn’t eat enough. Decorating their home had made Genesis look more like himself than since they had found him, and he had only improved from then.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with whatever literature Cloud could find. A very old and battered copy of Loveless, filled with Genesis’s scrawl, had a permanent place on the intricately-carved coffee table, though Cloud had never revealed how he had recovered it.

They had a garden out the back, where they both spent a great deal of time. Cloud grew herbs and vegetables, living necessities, revelling in the soothing feeling of dirt on his hands and under his fingernails. The flowerbeds were a joint effort, Cloud’s memorial and Genesis’s joy, a vibrant explosion of colour in their otherwise unremarkable clearing.

In the centre of the garden there stood a single dumbapple tree, which they would gather fruit from every year without fail. During the evenings when memories were too heavy a burden to bear Genesis would stand before the dumbapple tree and silently beg forgiveness, Cloud an equally silent presence beside him.

Eventually Cloud would take his hand and lead him inside, sitting him down on the couch as Cloud poured them both a glass of their more expensive wine. They would sit across from each other, close enough to be touching but not quite, and Genesis would talk, telling stories both new and old until the spark returned to his eyes.

Then sometimes at night when the darkness crept into the corners of the mind Cloud would dream of memories best left forgotten, tossing and turning and _screaming_ in a way that shattered Genesis’s heart to fragments of guilt  – _how much of this could I have stopped, if things had been different_ – and consuming regret. But Cloud’s terrors could always be soothed by the soft touch of Genesis’s hand on his brow, whispered words of comfort carrying through the still night air.

Despite their isolation they never wanted for company that was not each other. Barrett came to visit regularly, Marlene by his side more often than not. Tifa would meet them in the nearest town for drinks at the bar, her shout, as though nothing had ever changed. Vincent and Cid invited them up to the airship whenever they were in the area, occasionally with Yuffie or Reeve as their passenger.

Some days, when Cloud sat in their garden next to the flowers, he could almost feel a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Mostly, though, it was just the two of them. Sometimes one would startle the other so badly that they would reach for a weapon that was rooms away. Sometimes Genesis’s fiery temper and Cloud’s stubbornness would clash violently until Cloud stormed out to his bike, riding around the valley for hours until he returned home to Genesis, both men with an apology ready on their lips the second he arrived.

But most days, it was quiet.

Cloud swung his leg over his bike, checking the exterior with a quick glance. He turned his head back to Genesis, who had emerged from the house and was leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m just going out. You want anything?”

Genesis pushed himself off the doorframe to walk over to Cloud, who felt a warm hand on his back as Genesis leaned in to kiss him, chaste and fond as a smile formed.

“Only for you to return, dearest,” Genesis said, his smile growing as he looked at Cloud, “that would be enough.”

 

 


End file.
